#yooooouuuuu

[nightowl1556]

HOLYFUCKINGSHITSHITSHITSHITBAISJSUSJS A

IT'S BAKUDEKU AND MERTHUR!!!!!!!!!!! LET'S GOOOOOO

[netbug009]

Murder Drones Finale Spoilers //

Thinking about how MD has this creepy end theme song that is played in several different ways over the course of the series, somber versions, rock versions... but it's not until the end of the last episode that you actually get to hear it with lyrics and realize IT'S A LOVE SONG, because ultimately at the heart of all of the insane action sci-fi plot stuff happening this is a story about two trouble teenagers who should have never even met meeting and building a relationship that forever changes both of them and the world around them.

And like, DAMN, that gets me. That's some poetic cinema right there.

[floweypilled]

i think you should definitely post more of your arts!! ilove seeing the lines of your art go crazy when you're doing whatever. also GOOD MORNING!! (probably??) they are eating rbreakfast

OH MY GOD THIS ISS S SSOOO CUTE OHHhhhhHGgusjfjfkGEKTEKWKFLTKRJT MY BABIES OIYHHHH

[dangermousie]

This poster is GORGEOUS!!!! Very much like a cover of a web novel I'd love to read.

yoo-hoo, @silviakundera and @renewedmotionforjudgment

PS If I had a nickel for every time Zhang Wangyi fell for his fake cousin, I'd have two nickels etc etc etc. Borgia Boy is back in action!!!!

[sunncutter]

dead reckoning

✧ dead reckoning: finding yourself bothered by somebody's death more than you would have expected, even if they were only an abstract presence in your life.

The mountain path was gorgeous in the late autumn, crisp air dense with the sicksweet scent of leaves fallen to the earth. They crunched beneath her horse's hooves, painting the trail behind her with a waving, patterned blanket of golds, yellows, of red. 

She had not thought that she would have found herself in Bern again so soon after the end of it all, after the battle with the dragon, after putting down Nergal. There had been such immense relief, the tight joy that squeezed at all of their hearts – as though they could not have believed their good fortune, to make it through to see the other side. 

It was still so surreal to her, the dizzying course that her life had taken, shuttling her forth to experiences and lands so foreign that she had almost forgotten what had set her on her path to begin with. 

Dismounting stirred the leaves at her feet, snapping the twigs that lay just underneath with a crackle that raked across the silence of the little hamlet she had come across. 

No. Come across not by happenstance, but sought out. 

It was...empty. She had known that it would be, but there was a part of her that wanted to see for herself, to set her own eyes upon the waste that had been laid upon her behalf. If either of these facts confirmed – that it had been done, and that it had been done for her – was supposed to calm her heart, then it failed. 

Lyn's fingers trembled, curling into fists the farther her footsteps took her into Taliver territory. There was a part of her, the vicious, snarling beast in her heart that so few had the stalworthy spirit to face and acknowledge, that flickered images of their final moments before her eyes, the shock rimming their eyes in white and the screams trembling upward in the air, heard by none but each other and their mighty intruder. 

The crunch beneath her foot came more delicate to her ears, brought her up short as she drew her step back, knelt down to brush aside the carnage of leaves to find a small, crumpled doll, the length of its tiny blade snapped beneath her step. 

Lyn traced her fingertips thoughtfully over the shape of the thing, uncertain of the tug of her heartstrings – had they children? Had they families, children borne of the women stolen for generations of their brutality? Had Wallace - ? 

Brow furrowed as she lifted the little toy up, the prick of rattan against her fingers, and she felt the lick of flames course through her breast anew. 

No. This was no Taliver child's toy. This was the craftsmanship of Sacae – it may or may not have been Lorca, but it was kin to her all the same. 

When her footsteps drew her to what seemed to be the center of their hamlet, she knelt – no town and no camp, somehow, but clearly an area theirs and lived in; however disgusting she found the notion, this was their home. It took her a moment of steady breathing to quiet her mind, enough to set her hands to practiced tasks – digging incense and bundles of pine and sage from her pack, the wineskin, small carved figurines, and arranging them before her. She considered each with a heavy sincerity, not speaking the words of rite as she had when she had buried the bodies of her people, but with an intensity that tightened her throat as she lit the incense, the pine and the sage, and scattered them to ash before her. 

Gently, Lyn doled out portions of the wine into small puddles amongst the ash, taking a careful, thoughtful swig from the skin herself before setting it down, her heartbeat pounding a baleful drum melody in her gut as she, with finality she laid the souls of her people to rest. 

Her hands shook as she retrieved the vial from where it had rested, secured and heavy in her satchel, radiating such intent that she had been afraid it might have eaten through the glass, through the cloth and leather of her pack, even the flesh of her horse's haunches. 

She wasn't sure what had been in it, could scarcely recall when she had asked Canas for it and had not thought to listen when he had begun to detail every ounce of darkness that he had allowed to seep into it – did not know if it was magical, or if it was merely the corrosive forces of Mother Earth herself, or if it was some unholy marriage of the two. 

It was, he had assured her, as vile as he could fathom to make it. 

Her eyes flicked over the liquid inside, creeping up and down the sides of the vial with the motion of her hand before she broke the seal, the acrid stink burning her nose as the air rushed in and met with the waiting malintent of the poison's surface. 

A quick breath – in, out – and she raised her arm parallel to the earth. 

"I come to you in challenge, as leader of the Lorca, the people who you have so wronged," she announced to the open air, her breath curling in mist at the chill in the air. "I come to you with my blade and my heart bared, and I will not leave until I have satisfaction." 

The challenge was never meant to be metaphor, and she grit her teeth around the final word, jerking her chin up. 

"For what you have done, you will never know the kind hand of Father Sky, never wrap in the warm embrace of Mother Earth, and your spirits will be condemned to wander in perpetuity," she continued, fighting as her throat tightened, a tremulous vein weaving its way into her voice. "I do not have the offerings of the noble dead for you, only the shame that you have brought – to yourselves, to your families, and to those who carry your blood forward. A thousand curses upon you, those who haunt this land, the Taliver!" 

Briefly, she saw the broad, whiskery smile of her father, his proud leathery face creasing with his kindness for her – she saw flickering before her the vibrancy of her mother's eyes, those eyes that she carried herself, the eyes that she had carried forward from her father... 

Her hand tipped, the offering she had brought to the fallen Taliver sloshing to the side -  

"Lady Lyndis. If you truly wished revenge upon them, you should be happy. Hatred can be strength. On the plains, you needed that strength to survive. But left too long, hatred can twist and consume you." 

And, unbidden, she saw her granduncle's face. Proud, in his way, long and bearing the noble features of the royal family of Caelin – so alike his brother in structure, but their hearts polar opposites. She had not been there, when Lundgren had cursed his brother to a long, slow death, but she felt the burn of indignation as it was happening, the visceral hate that charred her innards. 

When she blinked, the world misted, her hand shaking terribly now, wracked with the sob that she could not voice – whether out of pride, or out of pain, she could not decide. 

But she could not bring herself to do it, to salt this field with the cruelty that had been shown to her – to her people, those closest to her heart, once and again. 

"There is no kindness left in this world for you - !" The rapidity that the strength of her voice deteriorated shocked her, and Lyn ground her jaw tighter, willing the conviction of her rage to carry her forward as it always had, but...  

"You do not deserve this - !" 

She could not decide who she spoke to, then, her voice warping around the words until she brought the vial close to her chest and crumpled forward into weeping, her tears dripping down her face to speckle the ground, to mingle with the wine and the ash that she had scattered there, that evaporated into the air and seeped into the earth. 

Was it they, those who had earned the hatred of the peoples who they had burnt and pillaged, who did not deserve her kindness – or was it she, last borne of those peoples, whose heart still beat in her chest in spite of all those who had challenged her, who had seen the fallen of her loved ones and decided that she would be the final punctuation on Caelin, on the Lorca? 

She who did not deserve to bear the weight of a revenge unattainable? 

[xofeno]

Jesse livin' the dream of being a full time celebrity golfer. Love this for him. ⛳💖

___

16th Annual George Lopez Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic at the Lakeside Country Club in Toluca Lake, California. May 1, 2023. Photo by Clutch Pockets Wambli.

JM Eagle LA Championship at the Wilshire Country Club in Los Angeles, California. April 26, 2023. Photo by Megan Khang. (Instagram story no longer available.)

JM Eagle LA Championship Pro-Am Party at the Wilshire Country Club in Los Angeles, California. April 25, 2023. Photo by Brittany Lincicome.

[dhmis-autism]

DOGDADDUO DUCK/YELLOW DUO YOU ARE MY FAVE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD YOU MEAN SO FUCKING MUCH TO ME I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH I WOULD KILL FOR BOTH OF YOU THE BOND YOU SHARE WARMS MY HEART FUELS MY SOUL EVERY DAY IM SO AHAPPY THAT THEYRE BESTIES

💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚

[aconflagrationofmyown]

I loveee Thumper so I had to toss ya a prompt 💕 Absolutely NO need to type or use these words, this is just what my brained churned out as an idea. I know you'll be able to work this into something using that magic wand of yours 💕

"Work obligations made her unable to attend Jesse's wedding, she had sent a very generous gift and card in her absence though. She was still floored that boy was old enough to have a wife, she always pictured him a rowdy little thing covered in sand like he had been during that one memorable Hawaiian vacation she had crashed. Her freshly painted fingernails dialed the familiar number to Graceland, hell the numbers were half worn off at this point after all these years. She had seen in the papers the new Mr. and Mrs. Presley were off honeymooning, still she wanted to give her congrats to whomever answered. She was thrilled to hear Elaine's voice on the other end. "Tink! Ya feeling as old as I am, being the mama of a married man and all?" Ann chuckled into the phone. They fell into their familiar easy breezy pattern, chit chatting about everything and catching up. Yes, Elvis was just fine. Currently driving the golf cart like a maniac filled with kids and dogs. It seemed things were finally on the upswing for Elvis and his saint of a wife. The divorce had absolutely floored her, sweet little Danny had brought them all back together though. Still, nothing floored Ann more than what Elaine said next. "I was feeling old there for a second... not anymore though" Her voice trailed off and it sounded like she was cupping the receiver of the phone so as not to be heard. She had heard the words from Elaine in the past, just never expected them now. "Thumper...I-I'm pregnant" She whispered, a mixture of a gasp and a giggle.

I- ….

I am beyond inspired by this. Gonna lift this straight out of the inbox and plop it in a document, add a couple more hundred words and splatter it out for everyone else to clutch their chests to so I’m now alone in it. Full kudos to you, darling.

[luminaryofblood]

Shadow of the Erdtree AU: Everything is the same, except Ansbach and Igon have switched personalities.

[doll-0f-flesh]

Men always want to ruin everything omg.

[jujutsukaisen0]

song of the fucking summer

[hauntingblue]

I wanna know more about law hanging out with the strawhats and how he is slowly finding out luffy is like the second coming of jesus christ

[monsternobility]

picking up astarion and putting him on a high up shelf until ppl learn how to be normal abt a guy whose entire character arc revolves around his sexual abuse and trauma regarding objectification

[dekaja]

i went with a qunari / rogue / shadow dragon. btw. :3c

[princesscrystal-hyperfixations]

So uhhhh 💖,😐,👻

AHHHHHHHH THANK YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUU

Lemme see!

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

Well…I guess I like how I write emotions? I’m a very emotional and sensitive kind of person, so when I write emotions, I’m kinda writing how I would feel in their place? 

And I guess because of that, it kinda feels more…natural? Cause I’m genuinely feeling those emotions? I dunno, this probably doesn’t make any sense, but I think that’s my answer!

😐 What embarrasses you most about your own writing?

Complete 180 from the previous question, huh?

Well…I guess I’m kinda embarrassed with how…well, I describe areas and environments? I don’t exactly know how to write places and stuff into words well, so whenever I reread something and I read how I describe stuff, I kinda die inside. It gets the point across, yes, but I still can’t help but cringe. 

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

Well, I had a similar question in a previous ask, so I would say the same answer, but I’ll give you another!

I have a WIP of basically my OC’s nation, and I was going to do a similar sort of thing like Rebellion in the Nameless series that Anilyan has written, like delving into the past and fleshing things out, writing some found-family bonding stuff, etc.

I feel like it’d be cool to pick it back up one day, but for now? I don’t think I have any immediate plans at the moment, and I feel like if I were to do backstory stuff for my OCs, it would be drawn and stuff. Maybe I’ll write it, but probably not.

Thank you again for the questions!

[biskael]

i feel like the thing that's most noticeable to me about your writing is the descriptive text you use (adjectives, adverbs); there was one reply you did a lil bit ago about quilge's reaction to something being involuntary without putting it so bluntly, but the way it combined with other descriptors in a short sentence helped me visualize his expression, his posture, his reaction to his own reaction- you have a very visual way of writing without overly describing that i genuinely adore!

What is the most noticeable thing about my writing style?

oh , thank you so much ! I do try to go for ... more of a shorter sentence length ( either one to three words, max ) , at times , to help convey various feelings or actions ------ it is a conscious choice in my writing style , to bring attention to something . I try to give something of a different "voice" for all of my characters I write as , but gave Quilge specifically more of a "staccato" type of narrative . I think its fitting , a sort of narrative detachment and focus on a part of various details , which tends to be something quite literal in the piece I'm writing . I go for visceral things . A mix of longer , perhaps superflous or overdramatic , and then the short , intense pieces that prove more of a stronger feeling . or at least , i try to .

I sort of have to , it's Quilge .